DARKLANDS (1996)
Written off upon its initial theatrical release as a Welsh spin on Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man (1973), Darklands is actually a lot of fun in a dumb sort of way. Aside from the afore-mentioned The Wicker Man, Darklands also readily cribs from The Omen (1976) and steals a known line wholesale from David Cronenberg’s Videodrome (1983). It makes for a fun time guessing where first-time director Julian Richards has pilfered his material.
Darklands is filmed and set in the mid-Nineties, a decade without much in the way of a visual identity, failing to have the awful fashions of both the Seventies and Eighties to underline where Darklands is placed, and still a few years away from our total immersion in the likes of Facebook and Twitter and mobile phones. That means there’s none of the usual guilty pleasure to be had in pointing out something ghastly fashion-wise, aside from that pastel top our lead wears at one stage, although there is the opportunity to marvel at the likes of the now virtually redundant microfiche and the price of cigarettes back then.
Craig Fairbrass stars as Frazer Truick, a local investigative journalist, – although you wouldn’t guess it from the case details he completely misses throughout the film – and he’s meant to be Welsh. This has to be pointed out as you’ll completely forget this whenever his London twang accompanies every line of dialogue he almost breathlessly mutters. This detail is casually explained away that whilst Frazer had indeed been born in Wales he went on to spend time in England’s capital. So Welsh people suddenly acquire a fully fledged London accent when changing to that location? I don’t think so.
For audiences outside of the U.K. they probably know Mr. Fairbrass best for his supporting villain role in Stallone’s Cliffhanger. Mr. Fairbrass, bless him, is his usual big old loveable self, barely able to act but charismatic enough for it not to matter too much.
Darklands opens with atmospheric scene-setting shots detailing the industrial nature of our Welsh setting. This is mingled with clips of people, looking like rejects from Duran Duran’s Wild Boys video, banging stuff and slicing open a poor little piggy’s throat. The same snuffed piggy turns up in the local church. Frazer is called in to cover the piggy mess and defiling of the church. He encounters Rachel (Rowena King), whom he sees struggling to get ciggies from the vending machine in a pub, and the next thing you know she is there at his office for work experience. Rachel appeals to Frazer’s inquisitive nature by mentioning the mysterious death of her brother and naturally he can’t resist looking into the matter and starts his rather meagre investigation at the local steel works and the local gipsy camp.
As Frazer’s investigation continues he crosses paths from the local Nationalist MP (Jon Finch), finds out that he was actually adopted and that Rachel isn’t quite who she is making out to be. The dead ‘brother’ she had Frazer investigate was an only child so she couldn’t really be his sister could she. It all leads to a very obvious climax and entertains for all the wrong reasons.
Darklands liberally steals the Patrick Troughton bonkers priest concept from Richard Donner’s classic The Omen, and wastes no time introducing him to the story troubling our hero on the morning of his birthday. Like Troughton’s Father Brennan he pops up letting Frazer know that he was there at his birth (not that dissimilar a speech to Brennan’s ‘I was there at the birth of your child’), lives with the comfort of his Lord close and also meets a sticky end courtesy albeit not quite to the standard that Brennan gets offed.
There are only really two female speaking parts in Darklands, Rachel and that lady from Frazer’s office, and both are required to have bedtime naughtiness with the hulking slab of meat that is our lead. The rather earnest hospital sex scene sees him oiled up to the degree that you fear that the poor lass sat astride him may slide off. The baddies want Frazer’s seed to bring them a baby hence the constant need for intercourse. Quite why they want Frazer’s baby isn’t made clear either that or one was still agog at the amount of baby oil splashed upon our Craig for his hospital experience. It doesn’t appear to be for daddy’s intellect gene.
Darklands is stupid, and yes it’s all very obvious but sometimes that’s just what you need in your film diet. Sometimes we need that something predictable to watch, something that doesn’t tax the brain too much and allows you to switch off, put your feet up, have a guilty chuckle and marvel at the maker’s sheer nerve. Darklands fits that bill perfectly. Enjoy!
